


Don't Think I Don't Think About It

by xavierurban



Series: A Little Bit Country [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Songfic, famous!Luke - Freeform, no ash sorry :(, not famous!calum, not famous!michael, references to previous cake friendship, tw: references to alcoholism, tw: vague references to self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>// don’t think i don’t think about it,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>don’t think i don’t have regrets;</i>
  <br/>
  <i>don’t think you don’t get to me,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>between the work and the hurt and the whiskey. //</i>
</p><p>A Muke/Malum fic, loosely based on the song Don't Think I Don't Think About It, wherein Luke left out in a cloud of taillights and dust and left Michael and Calum behind to pick up the pieces of Michael's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think I Don't Think About It

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first oneshot in what will hopefully be a series of (unrelated) 5SOS oneshots to country songs. The first song up is Don't Think I Don't Think About It, by Darius Rucker. All lyrics are copyrighted to him, although, in this fic, the song is actually written by Luke.

Michael likes to leave the radio on when he’s washing dishes; it spares him from the boredom of his mundane life. Sometimes, though, sometimes it has its downsides, and this is one of them. The dark-haired man startles when the radio host begins to introduce the next song, the singer’s name one that will always catch his ear, even when he isn’t paying much attention at all.

“Up next, we have a special debut of the comeback single of Australia’s own Luke Hemmings,” the host says, and Michael stares at the radio for a moment, his hands suspended just above the water in the sink, “That’s right, folks: fresh out of rehab, Hemmings is busy at work on his new album, and we have to tell you, if the single is any indication, we’re looking at a darker album this time. We can’t wait! So, without further ado… Luke Hemmings!”

Michael closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him for a moment, even though he knows he should switch the station. He’s about to do it, too, but then the lyrics begin, and he takes in a sharp breath, Luke’s voice hitting him like an acid rain, stinging in the open wounds that remain on his skin. Michael would never claim to be smart, but it doesn’t take a genius to know what this song is about - or, more specifically, _who_ it’s about - and he swallows hard as he tries to resume the task at hand. It proves to be a bad idea; it’s hard to see the dishes through the tears in his eyes, and the glass in his hand tumbles to the floor and shatters as the chorus rounds out. He swears, dropping to his knees as he scrambles to collect the larger pieces so he can toss them in the trash, but he can’t see the glass through his tears, either.

“Mike?” Someone asks, concerned, but Michael doesn’t look up at the sound of his name, doesn’t think he deserves to face his husband when he’s still falling apart over his ex, and so he hangs his head, instead. “Mikey?” He asks again, his tone more gentle now, the voice over the radio one he recognizes instantly. After all, they had been best friends, too. “C’mon, love, you’ll cut yourself down here like this,” he murmurs, moving to kneel next to his husband as he forces himself to focus on the man who is physically in the room and not just the one whose voice is filling it. He places his hands over Michael’s to still them, and shuffles closer.

“Cal,” Michael whimpers, dropping the shards of glass in his hands and throwing his arms around Calum’s shoulders. He buries his face against his husband’s chest and lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Calum merely wraps him up tighter in his arms. “It still hurts,” he admits, ashamed and broken, and the other man kisses the top of his head.

“I know, Michael,” Calum says as he strokes up and down his husband’s spine, “I know it does.” He had learned to hate Luke a long time ago, back when he had left Michael crying on the front lawn as he drove away to his better life, and again when he denied everything they’d ever shared in his interviews. It was harder for Michael, but Calum doesn’t blame him. He knows that the love the older man has for him is true, but the heart never really forgets its first love. As he listens to the words of the song on the radio, Calum thinks he might hate Luke all over again. It isn’t fair of him, not after all this time, a fact proven by the sight and feel of the trembling man crying in his arms.

He looks so much younger, then, so much like the nineteen year old boy whom he had found collapsed on the front porch when he had heeded Luke’s unsuspecting text and driven himself over to the house his two best friends were meant to share for the rest of their lives. Luke shouldn’t be allowed to keep shattering him like this, but Calum feels vindicated in knowing that he’s the one who is always there to pick up the pieces. Michael knows it, too, and as the song finally begins to wind down, the older man lets out a shuddering breath. Calum shifts, sits down properly and leans back against the cupboards with Michael still held tightly in his arms as he cradles his husband close.

“He’s the one who lost out, Michael,” he whispers, and smiles faintly when he feels the other man nod. He knows, deep down, that Michael doesn’t always believe that, but the times that he does show just how much progress the pair of them have made since Luke left.

If only Luke would stay gone.


End file.
